Icicle Stories

An abandoned shed,
Leaning precariously to the east,
Gradually grows a thick fur of moss on its metal roof.
Rain and dew, frost and snow.
What moisture the moss cannot hold
Creeps down to the roof edge,
And into the cold expanse of air.
Drip by drop,
A community of icicles gathers,
Pausing to share their stories
Before journeying onward.